


Council

by ValmureEld



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drinking, F/M, Gen, Grief, Heartsickness, Hurt/Comfort, Past Relationship(s), Post BotFA, Spoilers for BOTFA, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValmureEld/pseuds/ValmureEld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil is heartsick after the events of BOTFA, and Tauriel is the only one who can see it, possibly the only one who can help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Council

**Author's Note:**

> One shot because I think Tauriel and Thranduil would have a very different relationship after BOTFA. Looking back this is a little OOC just because Thranduil probably wouldn't talk this easily, but I'm not erasing it because it was a learning experience and it was enjoyable to write.

Tauriel climbed the steps of the Mirkwood palace, her shoulders aching from a long day and hundreds of arrows. With Sauron growing slowly behind Mordor's crooked walls the spiders had been worse than ever, and she'd been so busy with patrols that she barely had time to catch a breath. Deep in her heart she knew this was for the better. Every breath she'd managed to take in the quiet times came back out in a sob, either over memory of Kili or fear for Legolas. While she did not return the prince's love, he was as a brother and a close friend to her, and she worried for him. So many of their kin had died during the first conflict, and with the dimming of the stars Tauriel knew in her heart that many, many more would follow the path elves were never meant to take. She disapproved of Thranduil's choice to hide them all away, but it was difficult to really resent him for it. So many had already died. 

Her feet padded up the steps to the king's chambers, a place she had not been in many months. After the battle they had returned to Mirkwood and Thranduil immediately set about designating new guards and patrols, putting emphasis on fortification and communications. He kept busy with his work and his people, but in the brief glimpses she got of him Tauriel could see the fear for his son in his eyes. She doubted anyone else noticed it. His gaze was steely as ever, his movements purposeful and lithe, his will sharper than his blade. But, behind the silver breastplate he wore more and more often she could see his aching heart. That briefest of glimpses he'd allowed her of his heart while on the mountain with Kili's body would remain with her eternally. She didn't think he could ever really hide from her again. 

Though her shoulders ached her heart was light, hope comforting her soul for the first time since leaving Mirkwood against Thranduil's orders months previous. There was word of Legolas' progress. He'd made it to Rivendell, and there was taking council with Elrond. Hearing that the prince was well and Rivendell was yet safe warmed her and she climbed the last few steps to Thranduil's chambers happy to bear him the news. 

“My lord,” she said, striding forward, her brows drawing together when she did not see him immediately. “My lord?” she turned a corner and stopped in her tracks, stunned by the image before her. Thranduil was sitting by the pool, several bottles of wine on the stone next to him or resting on the floor. Many were empty. His back was to her and his head was bowed, his silver cloak draped half off his shoulders to pool like starlight on the floor. As she walked cautiously forward so she could see his face she realized his skin was oddly flushed and he was too still. 

“My lord?” she tried again, accidentally kicking one of the bottles in her haste and sending it skittering away. She knelt next to Thranduil and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to gauge his state by his expression. Very slowly he lifted his head. His eyes were glazed with drink and they fixed sluggishly on her. 

“I am fine, leave me,” he said at length, weakly shrugging at her hand and turning back to gaze listlessly into the pool. 

“With respect, my lord, you are not fine. Your skin is flushed with wine and your spirit is not so bright as it should be.” Tauriel reached for his shoulder again, opening herself up to sensing the other elf's glow. Though she was no healer, Tauriel had come to know Thranduil's presence almost as well as she knew his son's, and it shocked her badly to realize that Thranduil's strength had been slowly fading and she hadn't noticed. 

Unlike humans, who decayed into dust after only a few decades, elves got stronger the older they became, until, after a few hundred years their spirits fully matured. An elf fully of age could recover from a wound a younger one could not, and their spirits were bright enough that under certain circumstances a fully grown elf would seem like a living star. Healers and loved ones especially could sense this aura. Thranduil surely knew Legolas' spirit, and though Tauriel had clashed with her king in the past she knew his spirit well. 

Thranduil was at no risk of fading, but he was not as bright as he should have been and that left him open to attack. Sickness or even drink would effect him more severely. In her worry Tauriel took a moment of boldness and placed her hand on Thranduil's neck, the clammy nature of his skin shocking her like the tip of a whip. Thranduil did not react to her invasion of privacy and she pressed her lips together in worry. Slipping her other hand beneath his arm, Tauriel settled her palm carefully against the lower left of Thranduil's breast, carefully assessing the beating of his immortal heart. As an elf he shouldn't have to fear it weakening or taking injury or growing tired. But it was slow. Too slow even for him, and every few beats struck her palm a little too gently. Her own skin went cold and she withdrew her hand, standing quickly. 

“You require a healer, my lord. Allow me to go and get one for you,” she said, turning quickly to leave. 

“It was all over a necklace, you know.” 

She stopped suddenly, his words halting her as though he'd drawn a blade on her. She turned slowly. “My lord?”

“The battle,” Thranduil clarified, his words sickly sweet with the wine on his breath. “It was all over a necklace.”

Her brow furrowed. “You are unwell, my king. I will return shortly with aid.” 

“Let me be unwell,” Thranduil said listlessly, slowly raising his head to look at her. “Mirkwood deserves a better king than she currently possesses.” 

She stared back at him, a real fear settling in her breast. She went back to him and sat next to him, gripping his forearm. He did not react. “Why do you say such things?” 

He pulled his arm slowly away. “Because they are true. I was blind, Tauriel. And many died because of my blindess.”

“What were you blind to?” She asked. “I do not believe I understand.” 

“The reality of what I have!” Thranduil snapped, getting up quickly and striding away, though he quickly weakened and stood sagging against a pillar. Tauriel got up and followed him, hands hovering nearby in fear he would fall. His back was still to her when he began to speak again, his shoulders slumping even more. “I took my warriors into battle at the Lonely mountain because Thorin denied me my right. I have no need for the poisoned gold that great wyrm slept on for a hundred years, I wanted only the necklace.” 

Tariel's lips pressed together as she chose her words with care. “My lord, your warriors were glad to follow you, and when they fought it was against the filth of the orc. The orc are responsible for the losses we suffered.”

Slowly, Thranduil turned, trembling fingers gripping the pillar as he fought to keep himself standing. There were tears in his eyes, something Tauriel had never seen before and never believed she would see. No love in him—that's what she'd said on the battlefield. There was no love in him. She saw suddenly how foolish those words had been. 

“Considering his feelings for you I am certain Legolas told you of his mother,” Thranduil began, giving up his fight and sitting wearily back by the pool again. “She died protecting our son, and in the fury of battle I was unable to stay by her side. Her body was stripped of its adornments like she was some treasure to be pillaged, and the gems I gave her the night we were mated disappeared into that cursed mountain.” His voice was harsh and bitter, and he swallowed, angry tears wetting his cheeks. His entire frame was tense. Hesitantly, Tauriel sat down next to him again, sensing he was not finished. 

“I took my army to the mountain because in my desperation to have those gems returned I forgot what it was to spill elvish blood. To see lives that should never have ended bleed out into the dust.”

“You wished for the connection to your lost mate to be returned, there is no shame in that.” 

“There is more than shame in what I've done.” He stared into the water, his jaw clenched. “In my greed I lost sight of the living gem I still have from her. She died to protect him, and I risked his life and the lives of many others for some worthless crystals. Now there are children growing up without fathers and mothers because of my arrogance. In trying to hold onto her necklace I inflicted my pain on hundreds of my people.”

Tauriel's eyes widened as she listened, the true nature of Thranduil's affliction finally making sense. How long had guilt been eating at him? 

“My lord, the elves who died at the foot of the lonely mountain did so in defense of the free people of Middle Earth. Your intention may have been to fight for the necklace, but not a single drop of elvish blood was shed until Azog and Bolg attacked. It is the darkness that you have to blame for the grieving families under Mirkwood's branches, not your own grief. Legolas lives, and he is safe in Rivendell with Lord Elrond, seeking council concerning the growing shadow.” She paused, but Thranduil was looking at her, listening quietly, as though he didn't have the will to fight her. “I understand now it was your compassion for your people that caused you to hide us away from the fight,” she said quietly, “but those times are ending. Sauron is gathering himself, and if we are to survive we must be prepared to stand not only at the side of the mortals, but next to Lord Elrond and the Lady Galadriel.” 

“I have seen too much death, Tauriel,” he said quietly, and the breath he took seemed difficult. “My father, my mate. My—child.” His admission came out like a choke and he closed his eyes, clenching his hand into a fist as though the last two words had driven a blade through his chest. 

Tauriel shook her head. “No my lord, Legolas is well. I came looking for you to give you the news--” she stopped when Thranduil shook his head. 

“Not Legolas. Legolas grew from a young elfling to a strong warrior. The child I speak of did not even taste breath before he passed to the halls of the Valar.” 

Tauriel covered her mouth, shock causing her to draw back ever so slightly. She had no idea the queen had lost a child. The event was so unbelievably rare among elves that it was nearly non-existent, but under extreme circumstances it could still happen. 

“It happened in battle, as all deaths have,” he continued as though keeping any part of the secret no longer mattered. “She was wounded low in the stomach. Even when she recovered we feared she would never be able to bear children, which is why Legolas was celebrated so. And now--” he swallowed, went silent as though something was paining him. 

“And now Legolas rides into battle and a new age of fighting is upon us,” Tauriel finished gently for him. Thranduil only closed his eyes, laying his head on his forearm as though he didn't have the strength to hold it up any longer. 

“I have known loss,” Tauriel began. “But fear of loss cannot stop us from doing what is right. There is a darkness growing, my lord. And as bearers of light we have a duty to stand against it. Legolas knows this in his heart, and I know you do as well, for your son is very like you once were. I may not have been there for the past battles you fought, but I have known stories of your history and I have now fought at your side. The light is there. You realized your mistake with the gems, now do not allow your pain to deny Mirkwood her king.” She shifted, kneeling by him, taking his hand in hers and kissing the knuckles gently. “You yet live, and so does your son. You are both great warriors and these halls are filled with great soldiers. Let your despair behind you and let us stand as one. A single light may be snuffed out but Sauron cannot stay against a host of stars.” 

Slowly, Thranduil looked at her, silently inclining his head and straightening his back. “Send word to Lord Elrond that Legolas is to find the ranger and keep me appraised of all actions concerning Sauron.” 

“Yes, my lord.” Taruiel said, bowing her head and standing. “Will you allow me to fetch a healer?” she asked, concerned that he had taken too much drink and would still suffer for it. 

Thranduil shook his head. “I need only to rest,” he said, getting up. He clasped his hands in front of him and his eyes returned to their steely focus. “Be about your duties and I will be among the soldiers at first light tomorrow.” 

Tauriel bowed her head and took her leave.


End file.
